Being Scared

"It could be nothing, but we would like to rule out the possibility that it is anything serious." -- The doctor's words hit me like a cold ocean wave. A shock ran through my body and I could feel myself shiver in response. There were plenty of questions running through my mind, but I only managed to get a few out. Panic was forming a knot in my stomach and was starting creep up into my chest. "Just keep breathing," I told myself. "You can handle this. No matter what happens, everything will be alright." Still, I could feel my breaths coming more rapidly and the panic was growing stronger. I managed to finish my conversation with the doctor and hang up the phone without completely losing my composure. I sat for a moment just staring into empty space. I was still fighting to keep the panic down. I didn't want to face this a broken hysterical child. I could be brave; I could handle this. After all, the doctor didn't say there was definitely anything wrong. He was positive sounding. But he had said if. Those two small letters put together had created a huge effect when spoken.
The days have passed since that conversation. Symptoms have increased, more information has been gained (none that has been especially comforting), and more testing awaits. I find that I am able to handle things rather calmly, but the fear is still there. In the deepest part of me, as small as a kernel of corn, but there nonetheless. There are moments when it grips me and leaves me feeling limp. My legs feel as though they won't hold me up, my stomach is a series of knots, and my lungs feel as though they can't get quite enough oxygen. I tell myself to stop overreacting, to get a grip, and to keep breathing. This is life. There is no prescription for it, there is no cure for it, there are no guarantees that things will go the way we plan them or that the sun will always shine and rain clouds will never come. One comforting thought - I love the rain. Without it the sun doesn't seem to shine as brightly, the colors all around don't seem to be as vivid, and I find that I don't appreciate the times when it isn't rainy nearly as much. I appreciate the rain in the physical world around me, why not when it comes in my own life? I would like to say that I am perfectly composed, that none of the reports or conclusions will affect me, that I can face it all; but am I that strong? There is a part of me that knows that no matter what the outcome I will be fine, but it's hard to live that day in and day out. I want to be strong and brave, and I am. After all, courage is not the absence of fear but is having the fear and still be able to remain strong. So, yes, I'm scared and unsure of what will happen, but I know I have the courage to face it. I may need to hang on to the supports that are around me and I know I will stumble and fall along the way, but I am determined to keep getting back up, to keep facing whatever comes my way with my head up and my shoulders squared.